


Wear your insides out (light is grey)

by Absinok



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Background Relationships, Eventual Relationships, Introspection, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absinok/pseuds/Absinok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one is coming for her. No one to help, no one to save.</p><p>She'll do it herself then. She has power, physical, and will get back her name.</p><p>Empress Emily Kaldwin. Emily the Heartless, who saw colors since her first day. Emily the Wise, their ruler who's not to be taken as a simple little girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pain and Suffering™  
> Or the Soulmate AU that turned into something completely different.  
> Aromantic Marked Emily. Yes.  
> I wanted it to be low chaos but. but. i might change my mind in the meantime ahahha i'm sorry
> 
> Beta read by the lovely [maccready-s](http://maccready-s.tumblr.com)

Emily sees it all. She's been watching, ever since her birth, with bright eyes that could notice every shade. And as she watched, gleeful to chatter about what even adults couldn't see, they all reminded her that she shouldn't.

Colorblind is the norm. It's what she should be, and if she isn't then it's not something to be glad of. It's a flaw, an issue, something that people can't discover.

So she can't talk about it. Boring, boring, boring. All of this for diplomacy!

Emily couldn't understand how letting people know she wasn't plagued with a “soulmate” was bad for her reputation. It was as ridiculous as her mother denying she saw colors ever since she met Corvo. But politics were complicated and muddy (so they said), so the young girl kept the tales of the flamboyant red fabric she caught sight of, of how beautiful the sky looked when, once in a blue moon, it wasn't raining in the cold, cold city, all to herself.

She could not see what was so great about being colorblind. Each of her instructors told her how happy they had been when they've finally met their soulmate and found their colors but it just made things more complicated for her. She was expected to have a soulmate somewhere, but never to meet them or, rather, to forget about them unless they were a noble (which wasn't very likely).

It was easy to understand when she watched her mother and Corvo. They had to be so, so careful! Emily was glad not to have to worry about that; but nobody else was. They looked at her like she was broken, whispered that she was a heartless child. All because she had no soulmate? It made no sense. Why did everybody lack sense? They were all so focused on a stupid thing.

Until her mother had died; afterwards, nobody had cared for “diplomacy” - or the soulmate plague, as she calls it – anymore. Everything was much, much more important than what a girl's eyes could see. It matters to nobody that she insists on having blue crayons, and not green for her drawings at the Golden Cat. Emily doubts they even notice anything, too busy with their concerns, and yelling at her for being spoiled and needing to be taught discipline.

The Black Twin and the White Twin seem more and more nervous each and every time she sees them. She doesn't know why, but she can't help the vicious feeling of glee she gets from seeing these high and mighty nobles with black rings under their eyes and untamed hair, worry twisting their features.

It's probably her fault. She is troublesome, she is a brat, is what Madame Prudence always says whenever she finds her wandering around the establishment. Or perhaps it isn't, but it's because of them that she is here and can't leave. A princess locked in a bathhouse. They didn't make a friend out of her (but that doesn't matter cause she can't do anything to them).

“There is some bad blood running through your family,” the Madame spits, spreading lies about how Corvo Attano was the catalyst of everything that's wrong with her.

She does see it as lies. What else would it be? She knows what happened, she saw it! She knows Corvo wasn't the one who … her mother.

(No no no no no murder no. They couldn't be murdered, they couldn't! No, not murder. That's not right, so she won't think of it).

She saw these men with weird gas masks, keeping Corvo away (but then, in the air? Isn't that impossible? She knows what she saw, but… but…) and she saw the one whose blade tainted the gazebo with blood. The only one without a mask. It wasn't Corvo, that was for sure.

(Or was it? They say she is confused, that her memory can't be trusted, that she imagined it. Emily refused, and refused, until she started doubting what she used to believe in.)

So why are all these people pretending it was her mother's bodyguard fault, when it obviously wasn't?

Diplomacy is such a blurry mess.

* * *

She used to think the impossible existed, to consider that everything her eyes saw was true and nobody could deny it because she knew what she saw, but then, then there is real life, there is life between four walls in a dusty bathhouse and nasty keepers that will do anything for her to stop causing trouble. So she abandons thoughts of ethereal, indescribable things.

Or just hides them better.

She doesn't have freedom there, so she escapes in her mind. She can no longer indulge in misbehaving, the only thing she's allowed to ask for is crayons and paper. So she draws, and she writes. She burns the latter, feelings laid on paper, much too personal notes. Poems sometimes, prose most of the time, words stumbling on each other, broken sentences. It eases her turmoil.

But the paper isn't meant to be seen, much less read, so she has no other choice but to destroy it. No matter, it's fitting for her to reduce each and every note to ashes. These feelings are fleeting, and to keep a physical representation of them is pointless.

Then she draws, pretending she doesn't ever use the paper in any other way. She wants to draw more, but her thoughts keep redirecting her to the place, as if the papers and the crayons were linked to the ones who provided them. She draws dark faces distorted in anger and malevolence, then she draws the Golden Cat and the sun and a rainbow to make it look okay to any eye who might pry.

Once she draws Corvo, but she burns the paper. Doesn't want anyone to find it. And she _hopes_ , oh, she does, that Corvo is coming for her. But she keeps these thoughts to herself, because she understands it would do no good to voice them.

And then there's the curses of “none of this would have gotten so bad if that damn fool Corvo hadn't killed the empress”, then there's everyone blaming it on the awful choice of giving a stranger, a _Serkonan_ , an important role in court and Emily knows she hates them all for speaking so lowly of Corvo.

“It was to be expected, you shouldn't imagine these people are here for anything good,” Emily has once heard a guard hiss to another, when she was sneaking away, exploring the Golden Cat (though there isn't much to see, and once she saw what “grown-up business” actually meant she stopped wandering in the main rooms, where the clients were).

She still can't understand why everybody hates every little thing and person that comes from Serkonos with such intensity – despises them, Corvo had told her in better times, because they're better swordsmen; but it stings to hear them talk about Corvo like this and it stings more when she realizes she can't stop all these foul words from altering her trust in her mother's bodyguard.

She knows it isn't true, really she does. She doesn't want to think anything else than _Corvo is innocent_ and _they're all lying because she saw it_ and _he didn't kill her mother_. She still trusts Corvo, because she's lived close to him her whole life and he's never done anything even close to bad or harmful to her while all the people keeping an eye out on her on the Golden Cat do. They don't hesitate to make her regret it when they find her doing something she shouldn't.

The first times, she yelled she was the Empress's daughter, stood her ground as best as she could, pretending she could be intimidating, but she quickly stopped when she realized she had no power at all.

(Her words used to, orders being implacable, demands barely ever questioned, except by her instructors sometimes.)

The respect and slight fear inspired by her rank no longer applies to any situation. Probably because she's nothing but a kidnapped child, and without the Empress and her bodyguard, nobody would do anything if she disappeared.

Symbolical power is worth nothing, she decides. What's the use in being respected only for a name? No, she needs something more. She needs real power, to escape this place.

Her name is barely worth anything anymore. Everybody thinks her gone, disappeared. She can't trust the influence of her mother, because her mother is… not here, and without her she isn't in the right place to order.

She needs to be be able to escape, but she isn't and she doesn't know how to learn anything that might help her.

She's… powerless.

**(disturbing)**

* * *

“Hey, have you heard the announcement? They say they still haven't found the little girl that was abducted. I think it's unlikely they ever will. Who knows, she's probably dead after all this time. Poor girl.”

Emily wants to scream that she's here, she's right here, she's alive but she's alone. She's alone, so she doesn't. If they knew, it would cause trouble. And she has no one to help. Let's be realistic, she's a girl, a young girl and she wouldn't go far alone.

So she keeps her mouth shut.

Still, she can't stand it when they spill these lies about Corvo, it makes her enraged to even think these adults imagine they know better than the one who was here. To think that they all concluded Corvo as a murderer when all he did his whole life was protecting her. He was nice, he was strong and he would never kill her mother.

_Or would he?_

**No, he wouldn't.**

(It isn't what everybody says though?)

But she refuses the story they spread. She knows it's not true. She **knows**.

Still, the doubt _lingers_ , and Emily **hates** it. She shouldn't doubt Corvo, she should never think he did anything but try to protect them even on this day. Especially on this day. Corvo is her friend, and Corvo will be coming for her. She'll just have to wait. And _believe_.

And it's hard sometimes, most of the times, with everyone cursing the name of whom she sees as her soon-to-be savior, with everyone hating him with a burning passion and it feels like she's the last one to trust and rely on him. But she does, because Corvo is the only one. It's the only hope Emily can have of somebody coming to help her, because it's almost impossible to help herself in this situation. So _she believes_.

* * *

As time passes, she's let hints slip more and more until it was getting obvious that everybody forgot she wasn't supposed to see anything else than shades of gray. Perhaps they thought she might have lost the one fate would have thrown in her arms, or she might just have met them never to see them again. Or perhaps they just didn't think about it. She was just a little girl after all, they reminded her enough times for her to be aware of this.

So she tried to escape, because nobody would pay attention to her if she was careful enough. But a little girl wasn't discrete nor smart enough for such a thing, so they found her with her hand on the VIP door handle.

“Foolish girl, where do you think you're going? You think the streets are a place for you? You won't survive two seconds out there. Haven't you learned better? Thinking you can go past every danger! Don't you know there are rats and weepers swarming the streets?” the Madame seethed, looking at her with such contempt Emily unconsciously clenched her fists, looking down on the floor as if it would make it easier if she didn't look at the adult scolding her in the eye.

(“An Empress doesn't look down! You have to appear confident, even when you're not. It's one of the most difficult parts, but remember, Emily. Don't be ashamed; hide it. You are determined, you know what you're doing. I know you can do it, my daughter.”)

But then she recalls she has to look intimidating, so she returns the glare and, unsurprisingly, gets a slap for her 'lack of respect'.

“You're awfully uneducated, my poor girl. That must come from that criminal. Good thing he won't live to see another day. That's what happens when you let Serkonan filth into the court!”

Emily had yelled at the harsh words, yelled louder when the Madame tried to slap her quiet, refusing to shut up.

She sobbed when she understood exactly what it meant, curling into a ball and pounding her fists against the floor because it was too much, the thought was impossible to acknowledge, much less to recognize as a fact.

**No, no, no, no, no!**

He couldn't be, no, not Corvo!

“No, he isn't! He can't be! Corvo is my friend, he'll come for me!”

The twins were there, weren't they? She thought one of them laughed openly at her. Probably the Black Twin, he was the cruelest.

“You imbecile, Attano is dead! Head chopped off in Coldridge, they did it when they figured out he was no good to be kept alive. He got what he deserved! Nobody is coming for you!”

It struck a chord so deep inside of her, slicing an open wound so fierce she stopped crying, unable to do anything anymore. She limped back on the floor, without feeling any pain. In fact, she couldn't feel anything, except the distinct feeling that something, something was missing, something was just ripped from her, something vital and she couldn't, she couldn't do without it, she... She couldn't do anything else than gaping desperately, like a fish out of water, and it took a half-concerned, mostly annoyed hiss from the Madame “she's not breathing!” for her to realize that her body had completely shut down.

Then the Madame was pressing her hands against her chest, and it hurt again, it hurt so much, Emily hated it, she hated her for making her feel, and…

She welcomed oblivion.

* * *

She woke up in a strange place that night. An empty, blue place with a calming lull and oddness seeping through everything. A messy place, with things so diverse Emily could only wonder how such a place even existed.

A floor floating in nothingness, a flying whale, rocks passing by, almost hitting her. Water flowed upwards.

It was a beautiful place.

It was a lonely place too, and at some point the water started to dampen her face but her eyes were always focused. She walked, into nothingness. She listened, to the soft wails of the whales, to the sound of the wind that wasn't there.

It would be nice to stay there for a while, she thought.

And she did just that, wandering slowly by the flying rocks, careful not to fall (though there was an undeniable curiosity to do so, just to know what would happen).

Until eventually she was brought back to the real world, thanking whoever would listen to bring her this peace.

She didn't think twice of the dream until it became a natural occurrence. Each and every night, her mind brought her back to the strange, unusual place. She wondered if it meant something. It was relaxing, a bit too much even. The temptation to just lie down and stay there was growing stronger each and every night, but she couldn't indulge.

She was alive, she was to be Empress and she will be. If nobody is coming for her, then she will do it herself. She is strong enough to.

She did not decide to be born a Kaldwin, she did not decide to inherit a half-destroyed Empire but she will take it anyway. It is her legacy, not her choice. She will get out of here by herself, and then she will put herself back on the throne and she will destroy each and every single person who brought her to ruin. She will not let her mother's… be unpunished. She will not let the men who killed Corvo get away without any repercussions.

She will drag them down, even if it's the only thing she can do.

And she **will** be Empress.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of love for all the people who supported this fic!!! i didn't expect such a great feedback for one chapter holy shit. Thank you all, really!  
> This one is beta read by taywen!! very much thanks!!  
> Did i say i would upgrade quickly? Cause if it did it would be an awful lie lmao. sorry to take so much time with chapters.  
> also i almost posted the chapter two weeks ago but then i remembered i said i would make outie appear.

There is no such thing as a heartless girl, Emily knows. With every beat of the organ in her chest, she wonders acutely why everyone seems so keen on calling her that because of her chromatic vision. Sometimes though, she tells herself that they might be right. She _feels_ , but with a detachment that surely can't be so normal. At least she supposes. She should cry more, shouldn't she? But her eyes are desperately dry and though everything aches she doesn't want to wail.

Somehow it wouldn't be... right.

She just feels so empty sometimes. She wonders if it would be easier not to feel anything at all. No sorrow, no more. Not even this feeling of hollowness that eats her inside. Why can't she just cry? It wasn't difficult before. It came naturally. Now, her sobs are dry, forced and they **hurt** , they hurt so much but there is no water on her cheeks.

She can't even tell at this point if it would be more appropriate to show pain or not. She is to be Empress, after all, and a ruler doesn't show weakness. Yet, she is far, very far from the throne and nobody knows except for the Madame; and Emily hears the whispers, all of them.

 _There is something wrong with her_.

Because she doesn't put her grief on display? Or because she doesn't even feel it?

How on Earth is she even supposed to when everything is so unreal? When everything that was her world crashed down in the span of a few hours? It all came apart because of those assassins.

She knows she won't forget them (and she won't ever forgive), nor the few days she was locked in darkness (and really, isn't she always?), watched over by the same men who Corvo fought against. With nothing but silence and sorrow hanging in the air, Emily can't say if in the end it hadn't only been a dream.

"You will pay for this"

They hadn't ever mocked her. In fact, they never said anything, but their masked eyes never left her. Acknowledging her words with small head motions, but no words. Never refuting her furious claims. And it felt slightly gratifying, like a small victory she would have stolen in the middle of her defeats. And she could be allowed to hope she could one day get back at them for everything they had done to her.

It was cruel. She couldn't have back then, and she still can't and maybe she never will by herself. A girl, against a gang of assassins? But Emily promises herself, it won't always be the case. One day she will be Empress, and one day she will get all of their heads.

She wants to forget everything that happened since her mother's… She wants to be back at the Tower, with mother and Corvo; she wants to be _happy_. She wishes she could go back in time, and she believes in much but this, this won't happen. She can't erase what happened, she can't make it disappear. She can't get her mother's back. Neither Corvo.

But going back to the Tower, this she can. And be happy… only when revenge will be hers. Only when she knows the assassins are dead and gone, only when she knows nobody will come after her again. Then she will be happy.

* * *

Back at step one. She had to make herself forgotten, invisible and trusted – beyond a shadow of doubt – again. But it was okay, she was patient.

She decided that exploring the Golden Cat would bring her nothing (except disgust probably, considering the kind of grown-up business the adults practiced in the rooms). She learned her lesson. Escaping is out of the question until she can find something – or someone – to help her. Food, knowledge, perhaps an accomplice.

She went to spy on the Sisters – or as the naked men called them, “sweetie” or just the Courtesans (but it wasn't their name, not between them). They were nice, and unaware of Emily's plots and grim thoughts when she came to talk to them, or more often, to listen to them when they had their back turned. Sometimes, the Sisters caught her, and laughed, cheerful and innocent, like they didn't with the men.

“Aren't you a sneaky little one? I didn't hear you come in!”

Until Emily's presence became so usual the girls forgot to tie their tongues around her. They spoke freely, and informed her of many, many things.

So Emily was a little girl, but with the knowledge of an adult. And knowledge is very useful to plan escapes.

She learned the nasty old Spymaster was now ordering the city around, with the title of Lord Regent, and she couldn't understand why he was on the throne her mother used to sit on, and she was in a bathhouse.

She was afraid of being Empress, but she didn't want anybody else to rule. Selfish, probably. Still, she knew the former Spymaster wasn't nice and she wasn't surprised to hear he threw out so many people in the Flooded District. He never wanted to help the sick ones. Her mother thought it was important though.

But then her mother… Emily just wanted to be back at the Tower.

But she couldn't be back until she left this place by herself, because nobody would be coming for her. She was alone, and she was a little girl. A weak thing, unaware of the world.

Or so everybody believed her to be. And she wouldn't let them think the contrary. It was easy to play the innocent, the kind and spoiled child of an Empress who threw a tantrum every time she didn't have drawing material, who spent most of her time silent, traumatized by her mother's...

The last part was true.

Well, it gave her a convenient excuse to act as she saw Corvo do, listening while always remaining discreet.

Even if sometimes, it burnt in her chest. If her gaze lingered too long on strange shadows, she would think about _them_ again. Any thought in the wrong direction and she was gasping in pain, finding herself having to lie down and cry, cry cry until it felt as if her entire body was dry. One of the Sisters found her once, and told her it was okay to cry when she was sad, that there was no shame in it.

Emily still hated it. Her weaknesses weren't laid bare for anybody to see, or at least shouldn't be.

“You lost somebody?” and the child almost covered her ears, flinching at the word “lost”. No, no, she couldn't think about...

Emily nodded frantically, and the Sister hugged her slightly, before remembering she wasn't supposed to be the one to comfort her. A Courtesan wasn't the right company for a probably noble kid. They all barely knew about the young girl who had a room for herself, only that she came with the Pendletons and didn't leave. They feared she was to be one of them. She was too young, far too young for that. But the Madame didn't think about ethics, only business.

“It's okay. Grief is hard. It burns, it eats you inside out again and again until time lessens the blow and dull the pain. Over time, you'll forget, and it is for the better.”

Emily sobbed, yelled she that didn't want to forget, that she would never forget, that she would make them all pay for this, for what they had done.

The Sister didn't ask who it was that …, but the next weeks rumors was on the whole establishment that the cute, innocent, poor girl lost her soulmate, and they all looked at her with pity and understanding.

Emily had the mind to tell herself it was better, for them to be unaware of the truth. To justify the blatant lack of colorblindness that would cause her trouble later for sure, with “diplomacy”. But it only made her feel more lonely. They didn't understand. They couldn't, they all brought it back to an insignificant whim she might have had. It wasn't that. It wasn't romantic love, or whatever they called it. She lost someone much, much more important than a potential person that would have made her see in chromatic before fading away without giving her the opportunity to know them.

It was a much deeper strain, a wound that would never truly heal. A strong sense of loss and longing; and melancholia when she let it settle.

But she didn't want to! She didn't want to mourn, she wouldn't because she didn't know what truly happened. If her mother could still be… alive? If Corvo was still somewhere. She wouldn't believe until she was certain of it.

Once she was Empress, she would kill the men who caused that. She would kill them all. There would be no more assassins.

Until then, she would have to wait and stop her sighs each time somebody apologized for the loss they couldn't even understand.

* * *

She knew what the Golden Cat was, she knew exactly what the Courtesans were barely paid for, and yet she hadn't completely understood what was really going on in the bathhouse until a scene was turned upside down and she was the one to find a Sister crying. Thankfully she wasn't alone, because Emily wouldn't have known what to do with it. How could she comfort an adult?

The Sisters were huddled in a circle and Emily had immediately felt out of place. She didn't belong in the room, in their sanctuary. She didn't share their sorrows. It wasn't her right to witness such an emotional vulnerability when she wasn't part of them.

And yet, when one of the Courtesans met her eye and motioned for her to get closer, she didn't hesitate a second. There was a dirty tissue tossed haphazardly and a cover on the legs of the one in the center. Alyssa, she was called. A cheerful woman, always nice to Emily, so nice sometimes it stung and Emily would prefer it if she resembled her mother a bit less. But there, she wasn't smiling anymore.

There, she was upset. There, the other Sisters promised to protect her as she always did for the rest of them, backing them up.

“If he ever comes back, we'll strangle him for you. This is no way to treat a woman. This is our job, but we aren't to be treated as anything less than humans because they pay for us to coo at them.”

Once, the Madame told Emily the Sisters were all princesses and the men came to admire them. Now Emily knows the true story. She knows what the guards were speaking of when they joked about the Golden Cat. Loyalty will not come at this price. When she is Empress, she will make it illegal to ever hurt any of the Sisters. It is their job, and she won't allow it to cause them pain and sorrow anymore.

Neither Alyssa or any of the Sisters ever speak of this again to Emily.

But she hears the whispers when they believe her to be gone. They suffer. Most had no choice when they brought them in. They didn't want to be here, and some adapted but some refuse to. Some want a better life. But what will they do, outside, when the streets are swarming with rats, gangs and very dubious guards? At least in the Golden Cat they are paid. It could be worse.

Emily disagrees. She doesn't think it should be a reason for not even trying, since they are dissatisfied of their lives. But now she understands. She understands that they all hurt, and it isn't easier to deal with for them than for her. And she understands adults can be as scared as children.

“We all have our fears. Yours are the strange shadows that cling too hard on walls. Ours are the men walking through the doors everyday” Myrae, the one who comforted her explains and for some reasons it makes much, much more sense than the usual 'adults are fearless' vision. They all deal with their demons, but they don't speak of it.

“She hides her pain. Do you think she doesn't trust us?” Myrae asks several Sisters late at night, when she knows Emily is sleeping for long.

(Except that this time she isn't because she woke up in the empty place again and it frightened her so much that she came back each and every night, that perhaps one day she would be stuck in there; that when she left it she couldn't go back to sleep)

“I don't think she trusts many. It's normal, whoever she was close to before caused her to end up here, by their choice or by their absence. I think she's too young, but she's seen too much. Have you seen her play with dolls, or play games in general? She says she misses her old doll, but I think it's more because it's a thing from her past she could cling to than because she really wants to play with it. Still, she doesn't stop watching. She's a tough girl.”

“She had to harden up. Her soulmate is dead and she's in this bathhouse, of all places.” Myrae feels sorry for the girl. She genuinely wants to help the child, but there isn't much a Courtesan could do out there, in the city. She wouldn't even know what to do.

“She always seems to hate it when anybody talks about soulmates.”

“She lost her own. She's so young, it's possible she never even knew him. Be gentle with her, she's still a child even if she sometimes acts like an adult. We're the only one here for her, we have to preserve what innocence she still has left.”

“How can we? You know where we are.” Alyssa sighs. “It would be easier if she wasn't here.”

“But she is, and we can't break her out. You know it's impossible.” Sam, the youngest of the current group is the most idealistic, persevering one, but even she doesn't believe in the idea of making Emily escape.

_Impossible…_

The women eventually scatter, quite defeated by their helplessness but the idea never stops ringing in Emily's mind, even hours later when it's closer to morning and she's so so tired.

Escaping is impossible.

(But Emily has seen the impossible, so she knows it can always be done. She just has to figure out how.)

* * *

This night, the place is not empty. This night, as always, she runs between rocks, always wary of the colorless void underneath. She isn't afraid of the place, but she doesn't want to fall. She does fear the eventualities, would her feet slip and no longer meet ground. There doesn't even seem to be anything solid beneath the gray gap. Would she fall forever? She likes the place, but it feels bizarre, so unfamiliar that sometimes she tells herself she would rather not walk there anymore.

But this night, she has company. He materializes in the middle of shadows and he's young, though he looks tired – but his eyes! They are like a bottomless pit. They're odd, completely black, and it feels as if she will lose herself if she stares too long. As if his pupils are an abyss swallowing every color.

The man is pale, and there are purple bruises underneath his eyes. Emily thinks maybe he drowned.

She isn't comfortable anymore.

“Emily Kaldwin. We finally meet.” it probably sounds like the creepiest thing she's ever heard. How does the man even know her?

She has a hundred questions to ask, but suddenly each and every one of them fade from her mind and all she can comment on is the uneasiness she feels at the sight of his eyes. Is that how colorblind people feel when they meet any dark-eyed person? It's so strange.

“Why are your eyes so black?”

“Four months now that you're locked away, kept hidden by the men in power who took you for their plaything. Four months since you've last seen Corvo. Where is he now?” the man continues, ignoring her.

“He's alive?!” 

Now, she feels like crying. She wants him back so desperately. She needs help, she needs someone. Someone she can truly **trust**. The Sisters are friendly, and she knows she can rely on them but… Corvo is probably the last piece of her previous life. The last person who can make her feel at home.

The man seems to hesitate, and settles on not acknowledging her words once again.

“You are hurt, you are angry and you want power. What would you say, if I told you I can help you get your old life back?”

“Is Corvo alive?” she asks pointedly, letting anger seep through her words. She will not get some stupid speech. She wants Corvo, not the help of some suspicious stranger. She is curious, beyond doubt, but in a less innocent way than she used to. She is curious of what this man can do, how far will his 'help' go.

She is curious because she doesn't want to admit her situation is quite hopeless.

“Yes he is.” the man sighs, looking slightly annoyed. “I am the Outsider, and I can give you the power to destroy an Empire.”

“I don't want to destroy it. I'm going to be Empress!” she replies, surprised that the Outsider would even suggest it. What good would it be if she destroys what she is trying to get?

And now she is even more wary. She has heard of the god, and most stories didn't depict a very nice individual.

(But then most stories say it's a Leviathan and some even write him as a squid or a winged serpent; so perhaps she should stop believing stories. The Outsider is most definitely a young man, unless her eyes are tricking her)

“With my mark, you could call on magical forces. You could change your fate, get the crown back. Live with Corvo again. But without, you will still be another powerless little girl. In many futures, Corvo escapes but in some he meets his end in the same place where he was imprisoned and you are left alone.”

She doesn't like the way he speaks. She doesn't like at all the way he makes it sound as if it is a real choice, when it is nothing but the only possibility. Choose between freedom and… nothing. There is nothing here; except for the Sisters but she can't help them, and though they are probably the kindest people she's met they can't take care of her. They can't help her get back to the Tower. Magical powers can, though they are not the best way.

Yet, is there really a best way when she's been taken away from the throne by the assassination of her mother?

“I accept it.” 

There is no other way. She flinches at the thought of using supernatural powers, much like the assassins did, and she _hates_ it but it is her only option. She can't get out otherwise. She can't have her previous life back otherwise. The man smiles and she doesn't like him, but at the same time she's glad, happier than she's been in months. Because there is hope now.

Shadows loom around her left hand, and when they dissipate there is a mark as black as charcoal.

When she wakes up her hand is pale, clean and unmarked.

(when she thinks of the shadows, the dark design appears. And she smiles, and smiles and she cries.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmh let's say corvo might come in... two chapters. maybe.  
> also this story has multiples point of views, you'll see when we'll get there.  
> Til next time i update! btw you can hit me on [tumblr](http://ninokied.tumblr.com)!

**Author's Note:**

> also yes Corvo/Daud coming in the later chapters. yessss
> 
> next chapter more soulmate drama, the courtesans are angels and the floating whale douche finally appears. And Emily gets out of the Golden Cat


End file.
